Don't Let Me Fall
by xoxoangel232
Summary: Missing scene from "Normal Again".


[A/N: Missing scene from "Normal Again".]  
  
Don't Let Me Fall  
  
Buffy tore meekly at the borrowed, white clothing. They stunk with sickness and vile -- it made her feel dirty, impure. Her feet curled against her body, and she tucked everything she had into the smallest, compact bundle of heaving mumbles. She could feel the hot streams of salty tears slowly drying on her cheeks.  
  
Something tore at her. Duties, birthrights. . . the fate of the world. . . unnatural menaces stalking her family, her friends. Deep secrets that felt so disgustingly real made her fingers clench imaginary hands. And those hands were warm. Comforting. And they wanted to help her feel better.   
  
Buffy's eyes shot open. The gentle face of a middle-aged mad stared back at her, hope in his clear, blue eyes. She had previously been flanked by her parents, there had been tears, soft -- oh, God. . . so soft -- promises. She had heard bits of the doctor's explaination. Her world was made-up, not real. . . vampires were nothing but stories, myths, and folklore.   
  
No. No, it can't be. I have to fight the vampires -- I have to win. Have to win. I can't give up on them. On Dawn.   
  
The doctor stared hard at her, and his hazy voice slowly made its way into her mind. "Someone's here. . . to see you, Buffy. Is that okay --?" His lips moved before she heard the words.  
  
Buffy swallowed hard, lips trembling, and hands slipping beneath her arms. Her response was a feeble nod. When Buffy looked away, she noticed his presence vanished. She whimpered beneath her breath and pushed herself farther to the corner, her head bouncing lightly off the wall.   
  
Time didn't move the same where she sat. People would vanish, reappear the next second -- the dull streaks of sunlight -- sunlight kills vampires, she recalls absently -- shot into the room with such rapidity, and the next moment. . . the fulfulling light disappeared.   
  
Immediately, a new body filled the room, and Buffy's head rolled to the side with no effort. She grunted when her eyes fell upon a familiar stance. The stance of an angel, the shoulders of a champion, the hands of an artist.   
  
"Buffy," the man whispered, each hesitant step carrying his positive presence closer to her.   
  
"Angel," Buffy whispered, peering at him through strands of disarrayed, blond hair. "Oh, God, Angel. . ."  
  
He knelt, and Buffy decided that the closer he became, the more her grip on everything but this moment became lost, fell into nothingness.  
  
Sunnydale. The vampires, the world. If I let go -- the darkness that is Sunnydale will go away forever. And, Angel. . . he's right here. Him alone will make me give up everything.   
  
Unconsciously, Buffy reached for the collar of his gray shirt.   
  
"You have to let go, Buffy," Angel told her, his hands taking her own trembling ones from his shirt. He ducked his head, searching for that direct connection she remembered so well. "You have to come back to me."   
  
Buffy looked down, looked away -- looked anywhere but into those enthralling pools of knowingness. That cognition into which Buffy always wanted to delve. But, now, she wanted to cower, hide from it -- because it knew something, something deep. It would pull her away from everything she had to grip.   
  
And if that grasp became slippery, her plummet into this reality would be a fierce one. And she gripped his hands, as if, somehow, that would hold her up. Tigthen any strength she feared would be lifted.   
  
Angel took her head into his hands, focusing her on him, keeping her teary, light eyes on his. "Stay with me, Buffy. Right here." His voice held everything but strength -- something Buffy needed right now. He was afraid, he was desperate. "Stay," he repeated.   
  
"I. . . I can't. I have to go, I have to save them," Buffy told him, eyes wide as if she were a young child explaining her first school lesson to her mother.   
  
"No, Buffy, no. . . Just let go. I'm right here. You'll be safe, you'll be okay," Angel promised, his thumb tracing her cheek. "You have to let go."  
  
Buffy's head tilted childishly and she grunted again, slipping her head out of his grasp and slamming it against the wall again. "No." She heard Angel's voice crack as he began another attempt. " -- I have to go now, Angel."  
  
Her head tilted upright again, and she reached out a hand, gripping his larger one in her own. Her bottom lip trembled as she whispered a good-bye to the glistening eyes of Angel.   
  
When she opened her eyes again, Buffy leaned heavily against her couch, her hand still extended, but there was no larger hand in her own, and there were no whispered pleas for her. But, there was silence. The silence of a home that was the loudest thing she'd ever heard in her life.   
  
And it felt empty, even with a crowd surrounding her.   
  
Her hand dropped painfully to her side, and Willow slumped carefully onto the couch next to her. "Buffy. . .?" she asked uneasily, those honest, green eyes becoming teary at the sight of the pale helplessness in Buffy's face.   
  
-- And so plainly, with such normality, Buffy cried, her shoulders heaving with unusual violence as she fell against the warm embrace of her best friend. 


End file.
